Wicked Little Letters FILM REVIEW
Director: Thea Sharrock
Starring: Olivia Colman, Jessie Buckley, Anjana Vasan
A hundred years ago, before email and social media found ways to slap us in the face with unsolicited obscenity on a daily basis, the quiet English town of Littlehampton was beset by an outburst of poison pen letters — a nasty case of epistolary terrorism that today might be lumped under the heading of “trolling.” Someone with lovely penmanship and a salty vocabulary dashed off dozens of blisteringly offensive notes to members of the seaside community, igniting a police investigation and a series of trials breathlessly covered by the press, then largely forgotten.
A bawdy black comedy that isn’t nearly as “outrageous” as it would have you believe, “Wicked Little Letters” offers a retelling of those events for the Merchant Ivory set. Titillating profanity aside, it’s a relatively tame critique of 1920s gender dynamics, focusing on the two women at the center of the affair — a sourpuss spinster named Edith Swan, who received the bulk of the harassment, and her disruptive Irish neighbor, Rose Gooding, whom she accused of sending the raunchy missives — as well as the “woman police officer” responsible for untangling the mystery.
It doesn’t take much of a detective to realize that adds up to something fairly rare: a period film with three substantial female leads. Small wonder, then, that director Thea Sharrock attracted such a strong cast.
Edith is played by Olivia Colman with an exaggerated piousness that tips toward cartoonish, while force-of-nature Rose is perfectly suited to “Wild Rose” star Jessie Buckley. As a single mom who drinks and swears, Rose challenges the puritanical patriarchy to which her neighbors kowtow. The two could hardly be more different, yet they were once best friends.
For a time, Edith found a vicarious satisfaction in Rose’s liberated attitude. But now that Edith imagines herself on the receiving end of Rose’s insults, she can abide it no longer. “She’s what we feared would come after the war,” Edith complains to the police, who show an alarming lack of curiosity when presented with what seems like an open-and-shut case.
Only Gladys Moss (“We Are Lady Parts” vet Anjana Vasan) suspects otherwise. As Sussex’s first female officer, she’s confronted by sexism and racism every day on the job, where her male colleagues interrupt their locker-room banter to put Gladys in her place whenever possible.
It’s an insufferable work dynamic, which Sharrock and screenwriter Jonny Sweet are none too subtle about calling out. The movie feels very of-the-moment in its critique of religious hypocrisy and backward gender dynamics, and yet, one longs for a little more nuance in the clownish way these bigots and blowhards are depicted.
In truth, “the Littlehampton libels” built to a twist, which a decent contingent of the audience will surely see coming. While the case drags on, Edith seems to relish the attention the indignity brings her way. Who knew that enduring such abuse could turn this dowdy old maid into a local celebrity?
Contained in the conflict between these two women is a deeper commentary about the media and how the public relishes a good scandal, rushing to judge with only a fraction of the facts. In Sharrock’s hands, “Wicked Little Letters” is an entertaining account of what feels like a primitive form of today’s online flame wars. It’s a hoot to hear Armando Iannuccicaliber insults being lobbed in this conservative 1920s milieu. Amid all that bullying, it is Rose who shows what dignity looks like, rising above the slander.